


Middle Ground

by morgana07



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Demon Dean Winchester, Gen, Hurt Sam, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/mild comfort, Other: See Story Notes, Spoilers, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2435864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgana07/pseuds/morgana07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1-shot. Sam’s in trouble with someone from Dean’s past but accepts he’s on his own as his brother isn’t the man he was once. Dean surprises Sam and his captor but he also surprises himself by what he does next. *Hurt/limp!Sam & Dean* Spoilers for 10x01 so be wary!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Middle Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Violence, language, spoilers.
> 
> Tags: I’ll sort of tag it to 10x01 Black as it happens between the first episode and this coming weeks’ episode 2.
> 
> Spoilers: Yes, there are spoilers so be aware of that before reading.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.
> 
> Beta’d by: Jenjoremy (Thank you!)
> 
> Author Note: Yes, I know. It’s been a while since I wrote a gen piece but the premier of season 10 spurred the muse. Enjoy!

**Middle Ground**

“‘ _Whatever Sam’s gotten himself messed up in, that’s on him.’”_

_“‘I’ll be sure to pass that along as I’m slitting his throat.’”_

_“‘You do that._ ’”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to see about changing his mind or else all this plannin’ I’ve done to use you as bait for your big brother will have been wasted, sport.”

Sam Winchester gritted his teeth in pain, glaring at the man who’d jumped him in the middle of nowhere. He was mad at himself for being stupid enough to be too distracted not to see the obvious trap. “Who are you?” he demanded tightly. “You said you have some connection to my brother from way back. When? I don’t know you and I’ve been with Dean for almost our entire lives.”

“Name’s Cole and it’s been about 10 years since your brother changed my world in all the wrong ways,” the man replied in a drawl that the hunter couldn’t quite place.

This Cole didn’t look old enough to have been too old if he’d encountered Dean ten years or more so that told Sam that he’d been a kid so that meant it must have been someone else in his life that had met or known his brother. It also told him that it had to have been before Dean came to Stanford that fateful night to get him.

“Look, I don’t know what happened or what you think he did but this guy, this thing in my brother…he doesn’t care about me. Hell, he won’t care about you or anything so while it might screw your plan to use me against him, you better be glad cause he’d gut you before you could even make a move on him.” Sam still wasn’t sure who or what Dean was but he did know that for the first time ever he had a sick feeling in his gut that he was on his own.

Both Crowley and Dean himself said that he wasn’t possessed or at least possessed like Sam was used to dealing with so he wasn’t sure what or who he was dealing with. Right then though the hunter knew he had bigger issues and that was his captor.

One look told Sam this guy was ex-military of some type; a Marine by the looks of it which tingled the back of Sam’s head just slightly. He was shorted than Sam but a little stockier. He was also quick and knew what he was doing. He also clearly had vengeance on his mind and a plan to get it.

“You can torture me, hell you can do what you told him and slit my throat but it won’t matter to him.” Sam’s head and shoulder were killing him as he tried to work his wrists free but the asshole hadn’t used rope to tie him and it was nearly impossible to slip free from zip ties unless he wanted to end up cutting his own damn wrists. “Hell, he’d probably be glad if you killed me.”

Cole looked up from the bag he was going through, picking out various tools, to eye the bruised and bloodied face. “I think you’re underestimatin’ what a big brother will do for his younger brother.” He weighed a hammer in his hand as if testing the balance or weight. “Sure, Dean took me off guard by sayin’ no trades or meets but he also promised to one day kill me for doing this so I think he might just need a bit more persuading to make him see things my way.”

“That what they teaching in the military these days?” Sam strained but felt the searing pain in his shoulder and knew things were going to get worse for him before they got better; if he was lucky maybe this guy would kill him. “How to torture people? Sure not my Dad’s Corp.”

“Times change and you’d be surprised at what I know or what I can do to the likes of you and your brother, Sam.” Cole slipped a pair of heavy gloves on while lightly tapping the ball-peen hammer against his palm. “This ain’t even about you but you’re a means to an end that I’ve been looking forward to for a long time now.”

“What the hell do you think Dean did?” Sam demanded, eyes on the hammer as well as the pair of pliers Cole had already put aside. “My brother was never a saint. He was a hunter even when he was a kid but whatever the hell he did to piss you off had to be by mistake or accident…unlike it would be now. Look, just tell me what it is. You don’t have to do this.”

Cole looked up to gaze at his hostage for a long time as if debating with himself before giving a slow smile and a shake of his head. “Wish I could, partner. But I’ve spent 10 years thinking about your brother and what he cost me…way too long to just walk away now when I can finally do what I swore I would.” He walked back to the chair that Sam was tied to. “Y’see, I made someone a promise to see Dean Winchester pay for what he did to me and when my son was born I promised to make sure he’d never have to carry out my vendetta so now that he’s put himself out in the open like he did at that gas station, it’s my time to do just that and you…well you just might have to end up the victim in this little drama.”

“I’ve been one of those since I was six months old and my mother literally burned to death above my crib so if you want to exchange horror stories of being screwed over let me loose and we’ll go to a bar,” Sam shot back, grunting as a hard fist landed in his gut.

“I did some background checks into you and your brother, Sam. I’ve heard some pretty out there stuff. Maybe I didn’t believe it all…or maybe I did and maybe you and I might have some stuff in common but that don’t change that you are still the means to my end.” Cole tapped the hammer lightly on Sam’s tensing knee before giving it a harder hit and causing the hunter’s teeth to slam together. “Your brother cost me. Now I’ll take something away from him.”

“He won’t give a damn what you do to me!” Sam yelled, stomach twisting from the sudden searing pain as the hammer slammed down hard onto his kneecap and he fought back the urge to scream. “The guy you talked to? That guy who basically just said to do what you wanted to me? He’s not the man he was 10 years ago. Hell…he’s not the man he was one year ago!

“Dean will kill you one day especially if you hunt him but he won’t do it because of what you do to me…ugh…” Sam’s voice was strained as he struggled to keep the pain in, not wanting to give this guy the satisfaction of making him scream. “He’ll do it…because one day…maybe years from now…he’ll remember you pissed him…off.”

Cole considered that or appeared to be considering it as he crouched beside the chair to feel around the kneecap he’d just hit multiple times; he searched until he caught the flash of agony in glassy eyes that told him he’d found the spot he was looking for and squeezed.

“Where were you back ten years or so, Sam?” he asked casually, voice never losing the drawl or the tone as if he was just having a conversation and not painfully torturing someone. “The way I’ve heard it told these days, except for a few times, if there was one Winchester then there was sure to be two cause you and your big brother have been pretty inseparable. Where were you back then? Why weren’t you with Dean in the Big Easy?”

Flashes of a night in Stanford beside the Impala hit Sam briefly as he struggled to breathe past the pain in his one knee even as the hammer rose to strike his other.

“‘ _I was finishing up this voodoo thing in the Big Easy when I got this.’”_

_“‘Dad let you hunt alone?’”_

_“‘I’m 26, dude._ ’”

“S…Stanford,” Sam ground out from between clenched teeth. “Getting ready to take…the LSATs.”

Cole let out a low whistle as if impressed by that. “So big time college boy could’ve been a lawyer and maybe avoided all this. What changed?”

“My girlfriend was murdered like my mother.” The pain was still there for that but not like it once had been and a small piece of Sam wondered when his feelings had changed or if he’d finally become too jaded after all he’d seen and done the last 10 years. “So…whatever Dean did…it happened in New Orleans didn’t it?” He could only guess that his brother either hadn’t shared everything or maybe wasn’t aware of the event this Cole was holding him guilty over. “He…he…argh!” He couldn’t keep the scream in this time when the pliers came into play. “He said it was…was a voodoo thing before he came…for me…”

“Too him maybe it was.” Cole had grabbed the pliers to clamp them down hard on Sam’s pinkie finger, squeezing hard. “Cocky arrogant son of a bitch is how my old man described him to my Mom one night when they thought I was sleeping. Dean Winchester thought he knew it all but when it came down to it, all he knew was how to get an innocent man killed.”

Sam’s brain was fighting the pain his body was in while also trying to refuse what he was hearing. Now, right now, he could see his brother uncaring or willing to see someone die but back then, back when Sam was still a grieving naïve 22 year old and Dean was still the brother he looked up to as they looked for their father and the monster who ruined their lives, it was impossible for him to accept what Cole was saying.

“No…Dean…he wouldn’t have…” The scream tore out of him before Sam could stop it at the unexpected searing agony as he heard something snap and he barely registered that it was the wrist of his arm with the already injured shoulder.

“Your brother got my Dad killed by being too damn reckless.” Cole dropped the broken hand as he crouched back down beside the gasping hunter to look as blood from the recent beating dripped down Sam’s face. “He was a cop in a small town outside of New Orleans. There’d been a lot of strange crap popping up but it was the heart of voodoo time in those parts so he and others just shrugged it off until one day this guy showed up in some shiny black car.”

“Impala,” Sam groaned, spitting blood that was in his mouth to the side. The 1967 Chevy Impala had been home and wheels to Sam growing up and he missed it now like he missed the man who drove it. He blamed the pain and shock on his insistence that this guy at least know what the car was. “It’s a…’67 Chevy Impala.”

Cole had to admit he was silently impressed with his prey’s brother. He’d now been hurting Sam in a variety of ways for the past several hours but the in shock, badly injured hunter still fought not to show the pain he knew he had to be in and he got defensive over a car.

He stood and tossed the pliers and bloody hammer aside before running the barrel of his pistol under Sam’s jaw. He grabbed a handful of hair and jerked his captive’s head back painfully, noticing the glassiness in his eyes was more pronounced. “He gave my Dad his name or a fake name at first but Dad was an ex-Marine and made some connection with this guy and some dude he knew in the Corps…guessing that must be your old man, Sam.”

Sam bit his lip in both pain and to not groan that he figured their father would figure into this somehow. “What…what happened?” he asked on a gasp of pain when his shoulder was punched with direct intent to cause him pain. “What…what went wrong or…”

“Your brother went wrong is what happened, Sam.” Cole stepped away finally because he really didn’t want his prisoner to bleed out too fast or pass out again…something Sam was doing more frequently. “My Dad was a good cop. He was a good soldier but he knew bullshit when he saw it and all that came out of your brother’s mouth was pure BS about what was killing people from Dad’s parish back to New Orleans. When it was over, six people were dead including my Dad and your brother walked away with only bruises. Dean Winchester caused my Dad to die…he killed him and I promised to kill him.”

Sam’s head was ringing from pain and denial. “No…he wouldn’t…couldn’t have,” he muttered, knowing there had to be a reasonable explanation if his brother had anything to do with the death of someone. “Had…had to have…a reason or…he…Cole…please, don’t do…ugh!”

“You can deny it all you want, Sam. Hell, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t try to defend him. That’s your job as his brother but you have your job and I have mine,” Cole reached for a knife as well as Sam’s phone to hit redial. “We’ve left him quite a few interesting voicemails. I guess we’ll leave big brother one more and he can listen to you bleed out as I slit your throat.” He gave a slow almost apologetic smile. “Sorry, partner. Nothing personal and when I see your brother I’ll tell him you really were one hardcore son of a bitch.”

“Yeah, that’s the Winchester in him.”

The unexpected hard voice that spoke from near the door had Cole turning but as he did he also had the knowledge to step behind Sam, putting the blade to his throat as he met green eyes that looked more amused than anything else as Dean Winchester leaned in the door of the old warehouse.

“So you decided to come after all.” Cole eyed the man he’d hated for so long while jerking Sam’s head back to hear the younger Winchester struggle to muffle a cry of pain as the blade pressed against his throat. “Thought you said there’d be no meet ups or trades.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” Dean straightened up to take a step inside with barely a look at his injured brother as he settled them on the man holding the blade. “This isn’t a trade or a meet. This is me coming here to kick your goddamn ass all over this warehouse for pissing me off with the constant voicemails.”

There was something in the tone that made Cole pause. The voice, the hard eyes, the body language was like in the photo he’d seen but this obviously wasn’t the man he’d seen briefly 10 years earlier. That had been a youthful cocky arrogance while this was more a ‘I don’t give a damn and I know something you don’t’ type of vibe that made him wonder about things Sam had been saying about changes to his brother. “You seem to forget that I still have a knife to your brother’s throat.”

“Yeah, and you seem to be under the impression that I give a damn about that,” Dean tossed back with a slow smirk but did finally give a look to take in his brother’s condition. He picked up the labored breathing, the broken bones, the nearly ruined knee as well as the things that couldn’t be seen but he could pick up. “Now if I decided to give a damn that you’ve been torturing Sam with a skill that either screams sadist or military then things might go more painfully for you than I planned when I got here and overheard your little fairytale.”

Cole’s eyes went to slits, fingers tightening in long hair sticky with blood. “You got my father killed!” he snapped, pressing the blade a little harder until a fine line of blood could be seen trickling down Sam’s throat.

“No, actually your father almost got me killed, smart ass,” Dean returned, pulling out the bone knife that was the First Blade even if this was a simple human. “Who told you about what happened?” he asked easily as if not really caring but curious.

“One of the deputies that survived your screw-up told my mother when they had to come tell her what happened,” Cole glared as his hate built while remembering the pain. “I still don’t know how you walked away without being arrested but…”

“Because it would be hard to charge me with anything when I didn’t do anything but try to stop what happened and the Chief knew it,” Dean eyes the bloody tools with a casual interest of a man who’d once used similar items himself, a lifetime ago or so it seemed. “The people who died…including your old man, were possessed by a power that nothing could control including the dimwit son of a bitch that summoned it.

“Y’see, people like you, people like your Dad, hell, even like me and Sam once upon a horror story ago, often think if you mention voodoo and you think of the old horror movies, some corny people or spells and stuff like that but every once and a while you come across someone stupid enough to find a spell that actually does summon something nasty and that’s what happened down there.” Dean stepped closer, seeing but ignoring the line of blood on Sam’s throat to meet and briefly hold glassy hazel eyes without expression until he gave the barest nod of his head that went unnoticed by Cole but not by Sam.

Sam hadn’t been sure if he was really hearing his brother’s voice or if it was the pain and shock he was in making him hear what he knew he wouldn’t. He was fighting not to jerk away from the hand pulling his head back but the blade that was slowly cutting into his throat reminded him to try to stay still and hope Cole didn’t get too carried away as they both listened to Dean.

The brief eye contact still didn’t reassure the hunter since there was nothing of the brother he’d grown up idolizing and trying to be just like in the hard green eyes but the simple nod of a head did strangely ease some of his fear.

“You’re saying some crackpot who thought he was a Voodoo Priest did something that killed all those people?” Cole scoffed, tightening his grip when Dean took another step. “Back off. I will kill him.”

“You’ve basically killed him anyway because those pliers you used there to cut into his finger? They’re rusted. He’s got a blood infection that’ll spread and kill him before he bleeds out from that cut on his neck,” Dean shrugged with a realistic look, not looking at Sam’s face right then but knowing what he’d see if he did. “You talked a damn lot in the last few hours about justice and doing what was right but yet here you are, some big bad tough Marine, taking out your anger on a guy who was planning a hot weekend with his girlfriend and taking some test that would get him into some fancy law school if I and our past hadn’t come crashing into his world one night.

“I told your Dad to stay back that night. To let me handle it but like with so many other things back then I was an arrogant ass who thought I knew it all and underestimated the power of this thing.” Dean wasn’t explaining in hopes to reason with the guy holding a knife to Sam’s throat. He mainly did it as a way to get closer. “Your father was a lot like ours. A stubborn ex-Marine who thought he could tackle any problem with a gun or a blade…like you think you can right now.”

“I’m the one with the blade to your brother’s throat, slick,” Cole reminded, but felt a cold chill go through his blood at the slow smile that curved the razor stubbled face of the man he wanted dead. “I could kill him before you could cut me with whatever that is or…”

“Yeah, you probably could and I might even let you,” Dean nodded easily, looking down at the First Blade before lifting his eyes to lock on Cole and letting them go pure black. “Then again I might not.”

Before it could even register with Cole that he might be in over his head, a strong hand gripped the wrist holding the blade to Sam’s throat, squeezing it in painful warning.

“Jerk and cut him more and I promise that I will rip every internal organ you have out while leaving you alive to watch me do it,” Dean’s voice had dropped dangerously low as he let his eyes return to normal. “Drop the blade or I break your wrist.”

“When Sam said I should run far away because you were a monster I didn’t take him quite literally enough it seems,” Cole gritted, debating briefly before finally relaxing his fingers to let the knife fall free. “You might just be more of one than my hate for you turned me into, Winchester.”

“Oh, you have no idea the kind of monster I am now.” Dean’s head jerked to the side and a surge of power took Cole against a wall; he crashed to the ground with a thud. “Now you’re gonna find out.”

“D…Dean,” Sam tried to reach out, to grab for his brother only to nearly throw up and pass out from searing pain all over his body.

Dean, however, was oblivious to anything but the sudden burning need to hurt and draw blood. He crossed the distance to grab Cole by the collar, yanking him up. “You’ve wasted 10 years plotting revenge on me when I tried to save your father. He was supposed to stay back until I did what needed done but he got too on edge and crossed the circle that was keeping the damn thing trapped,” he growled lowly, fist punching Cole hard in the face as they crashed out the door to land hard against Cole’s truck.

“He broke the circle and that thing latched onto the Voodoo guy’s minions and your Dad. He pulled his gun and shot a 16 year old girl in the heart because he was possessed by pure evil. Pure evil that would’ve spread until he killed his family so when I couldn’t get it out of him like it left the others I had no goddamn choice but to put a bullet in him just to keep him from killing me and the others,” Dean punched the man again until finally he fell against the vehicle. “The Chief knew it but he also knew there was no way to logically explain any of it so I went my way and he covered it as a cult thing gone wrong.”

“You…you still killed him!” Cole snapped, managing to get a few blows in before realizing that his best just wasn’t bothering Dean. “What’re you possessed by then?”

“Myself and all the hate and crap that I’ve done, seen and been put through all my life,” Dean replied, catching the fist that was thrown to slam it over the hood until finally he put the First Blade up to Cole’s throat. “What possessed your Dad was evil. It was a pure demon born of too much power and too much stupidity. Me? This is what happens when you deal with the first demon, get a stupid mark, take a blade and then die.” He grabbed Cole by the throat while letting him see the blade up close.

Every ounce of what he was then was screaming to cut, to hurt, and to kill this bastard and Dean was so tempted. He’d beat the guy until he dropped, bloody to the gravel beside the truck and was just bending to finish it when a sound made him look up, back into the open door of the warehouse.

The former hunter had told himself that he had not come here to rescue Sam; he had not tracked all those damn voicemails of his brother’s ragged voice choked in pain until finally the pain got bad enough that he’d screamed a few times because he wanted to save his brother. He came because the damn constant stream of messages was messing with ability to focus on sex or even pool so that was why he’d hunted this asshole down.

Dean was also telling himself that his need for blood, to make this punk bleed or better yet die was not slowly fading away because Sam was slowly bleeding out from a cut that was larger than Dean originally thought as well as the other wounds.

He was not considering not feeding the mark because he suddenly decided he’d better actually go untie his brother. Nope, it was none of those things or so he told himself as he knelt down to grab Cole’s jaw tightly.

“Listen to me,” Dean began in a voice that was nothing but pure malice. “I am walking away from you and you will still be breathing but this is the only shot you will ever have like that from me. Come after me or ever come after what’s mine and the next time I have to hunt your ass down? I will kill you.” He shot another look back to the warehouse with a sigh. “He’s still mine. I might not give a damn but no one hurts him like this except me. Touch my brother again and I will kill you very painfully.”

Dean’s hand punched again, knocking the former Marine out cold and leaving him lying on the ground while he got to his feet slowly to make the walk back inside to simply stand there and stare at his barely conscious brother.

“Damn it, Sammy,” he muttered under his breath, shoving the bone blade back under his jacket before kneeling down beside the chair. “Hey! You with me or not?” he asked in a rougher tone than he normally would ever use with his brother.

Sam thought he must have passed out until he heard the rough gravelly voice from right beside him and struggled to open his eyes. “Wha…ugh!” He cried out in pain when he tried to move but found himself still tied up and searing pain raced from his knee to his shoulder. “Your…turn…now?”

“Could be, kiddo,” Dean shrugged but reached for his pocketknife to cut the damn plastic ties off of Sam’s ankles and then his wrists, being slightly more careful there to avoid cutting already torn flesh. “It would be real easy for me to finish what this clown started or I could just leave you here. The infection and cold would take care of it for me.”

Sam refused to lift his head; he refused to see either cold disinterest or black eyes staring back at him so he stayed still even after feeling his bonds come loose. He knew his one knee was definitely shattered; he had felt bones painfully shifting when Cole had gripped it earlier. His wrist was broken on the side that his shoulder was already hurt and he knew everything else that Cole had done probably had left him in pretty bad shape.

The hunter was also aware that he was stuck in the middle of nowhere with no car and no way to drive himself anywhere. “So do…do it,” Sam heard his words slur and knew he was slipping into shock. “Save…Crowley’s demons the trouble.”

“Come again?” Dean had been mostly mocking, using the expected belief to keep Sam distracted while moving his free hand over a kneecap that had been shattered badly while taking in the broken hand and a tip of a finger that had almost been ripped off. “Crowley’s sent his goons after you? When and how many times?” he demanded, voice dropping even lower while settling his hand over the knee while keeping his other one pressed to the center of Sam’s chest when the sudden pain in his knee made him try to move. “Stay still!”

“Kill me if you’re gonna but don’t draw it out!” Sam’s teeth were clenched against the pain, trying to cushion his broken wrist and hurt finger while keeping his shoulder immobile despite the nauseating pain rolling in his stomach from his knee. “You told him my nature to not give up was from being a Winchester. Well, then that means I’m not giving up on fixing you.” He groaned in pain, wanting to curl up but unable to move due to the hand on his chest; a touch that was so damn familiar to him that it hurt. “Did you get this side from the Campbells?”

Dean’s gaze lifted, a spark of hotter temper surfacing at the mention of their mother’s family; a family that Dean hadn’t gotten along with from day one. “Maybe I did,” he muttered and found a distinctly sour taste in his mouth at that thought. “You think it’s wise to mouth off to me right now?”

“I’m becoming too cold and numb to feel more pain so I guess maybe I think it doesn’t matter,” Sam muttered, letting his head fall back as if too tired suddenly to hold it up. “Guess…I might have to give up on fixing you. Huh…ironic.”

“What is?” Dean was frowning without realizing it, fingers feeling Sam’s wrist for a pulse while putting the knife away and looking around to see his brother’s duffel laying across the warehouse. “Where’d he jump you anyway?”

Sam gave a halfhearted attempt at a shrug. “Middle of a road somewhere,” he mumbled while trying to focus on the other question. “It’s ironic cause this time you won’t be doing anything to bring me back cause you don’t care about me and this would be the time when I’d want you to so I could make sure I brought you back…did that make sense, De’n?”

“No, but then you never make sense when you’re close to passing out,” Dean returned while grabbing something out of the duffel to use to wrap around Sam’s throat to stop the still steady trickle of blood. “How many times have Crowley’s goons nailed you and how do you know they weren’t Abbadon’s?”

“Nah, Crowley’s demons…know ‘em cause they’re stupid.” Sam closed his eyes against the spinning world, trying to push up only to think he felt his good arm being slipped around strong shoulders. “Few times. This one said…it was cause his boss didn’t wanna lose his new BFF and…I hate Crowley.”

“Yeah, well I’m still not too fond of him myself,” Dean muttered, less so now as he took in this news while getting Sam to his feet, seeing the still injured leg shake but hold his 6’4” brother’s weight. “Aside from blaming him for this mess what else do we hate him for this week?”

The pain and shock had Sam’s brain too muddled to notice anything else but that so he chose to try to concentrate on the voice he could still hear while it wasn’t mocking or threatening him. “Said…you were besties and having a ball. He said I was jealous cause you were with him and his and…I did not hit a dog again. I’ve…been lookin’ for you but…God, this hurts. Just drop me in a ditch and let me die. Promise I won’t haunt you or go turn into a vengeful spirit or…”

“Okay, you are rambling now,” Dean cut into that array of half muttered, slurred words that he only caught half of and that was because he was still attuned to little brother speech. “Who said you hit a dog again or that Crowley and I were…what the hell is a bestie…he said I was his?” The more the ex-hunter heard the less happy he was and he suddenly knew what the goddamn King of Hell must have been saying to Sam when he talked to him. “Crowley said all that when you called on that phone?”

“Yep,” Sam went with the hand on his head that coaxed him into ducking, not even questioning where or why by this point. “Said you guys were partners, besties and…that pissed me off…a lot cause…mine.”

Dean leaned his head on the roof of the Impala to try to shake off the feelings that seemed to swamping him, feelings that he thought had been killed off when he’d been killed as well as a burning on his arm that told him the damn mark wanted to be fed and since it had been robbed of Cole’s blood it seemed to be willing to take Sam’s.

“What’s yours?” he asked, pulling the First Blade out to stare at it; feeling the pull to draw blood. He could see himself slashing it across his brother’s already cut throat.

“You,” Sam mumbled, shifting a little without even realizing he was turning toward the driver’s seat like he would if Dean was behind the wheel and they were just cruising down some highway. “My brother. My partner, not his…or shouldn’t be but I forget…you’re not you right now and don’ care and…”

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean growled, shutting the door to step back away from the car and away from the surging thoughts to hurt his brother while making a sudden choice. He slashed the blade over his own palm and soon felt the need for violence leaving him. “Sonuvabitch,” he muttered under his breath.

Pain was what Sam Winchester woke up to. Pain and the feeling of his empty stomach about to revolt on him as he tried to place where he might be from the sounds and smells around him.

He was dimly shocked to wake up since he thought he’d die either from his wounds or from a knife to the chest or throat. As he struggled to open his eyes and move at the same time, an unfamiliar hand pressed him back with very little effort. He swallowed back his disappointment.

“Stay still Agent Simmons. Your blood pressure and heart rate have both finally stabilized, but I still need you to stay still for me. Whatever criminal jumped you did one hell of a number on you or so your partner said.”

The voice was soft, definitely feminine but what forced Sam’s eyes to open was her mention of a fake name he hadn’t used in years and that his ‘partner’ had told her anything. He also wanted to see who the hell was talking to him.

“Ugh!” he groaned as a bright light blinded him and nearly made him throw up until the light was clicked off.

“Well I did say to stay still until I was done,” the woman admonished with a sigh. “I’m Dr. Morse. Do you know where you are, Agent?”

“No,” Sam honestly didn’t. He wasn’t sure how far from where he’d been jumped Cole had taken him. He also wasn’t sure why Dean would’ve taken him to a hospital instead of just leaving him where he was. “I also don’t know the date and I barely know my name. Where is my…partner?” he asked hesitantly, not sure he wanted to hear the woman tell him that he’d left.

“You’ll have to forgive him, Doc. He gets cranky when first waking up after having his ass handed to him like he did.”

The voice was softly chiding but the fact that he heard it at all had Sam’s head turning toward the door to be sure he wasn’t still seeing things. His vision was still blurry but he caught the smirk on Dean’s face as he shot a wink at the doctor while stepping into the room dressed in a suit…like he should’ve been if he was playing Fed.

“Oh, I get plenty of cranky patients in here, Agent Criss,” Dr. Morse shrugged that off. She was a middle aged, slightly plump woman with a friendly smile but a good judge of people; that judgment allowed her to sense that something wasn’t quite right with her new patient or his partner but she was willing to let that go for the moment. “Given all the blood when you brought him in and the swelling on his knee I was expecting a lot worse but he seems to be coming along quite well. If his vitals stay stable another few hours and all his blood work comes back good I can probably release him tonight…so long as you’re driving.”

Sam started to argue that he was fine and could sign himself out when this time the hand on his chest pressed just slightly firmer and was more familiar so he slumped back with a sigh.

“Yeah, I’m driving, Doc,” Dean replied, his face keeping the calm smile on it while the woman finished up her latest exam of his brother.

It had actually surprised him when he pulled in front of an ER two towns away from where he’d tracked Sam and Cole. He had planned to drop Sam off at a motel, make a few texts to people on his brother’s phone that might help him and then drop back off radar…after he made a point to a certain demon.

Dean wasn’t sure why he decided to do the hospital thing. He also wasn’t sure what the hell made him give the Fed line or stick around the next 14 hours while Sam was unconscious since with every passing hour he’d told himself that he was just waiting one more hour and then leaving. Now as he felt hazel eyes watching him and could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket Dean guessed he was going to have to decide what he was going to do.

“How did your prisoner jump you?” the woman was asking while making sure the stitches in Sam’s finger, as well as the cast on his broken wrist were still good. “Agent Criss was correct when he told the ER staff that you had the start of a blood infection but I think we caught it in time.”

“My partner wasn’t around like he normally is and this guy was good,” Sam returned slowly, pain easing off with a push of a syringe in the IV attached to his arm. “How…bad’s my knee shattered?” he asked while trying to look only to once again have Dean’s hand on his chest to keep him still.

“Oh, it’s bruised some and has some mild swelling probably from where you hit the ground but the kneecap is fine, certainly not shattered,” Dr. Morse assured him, missing Sam’s quick look of confusion. “You should keep it iced for a day or two and no chasing hoods when I let you out of here.”

Sam shot Dean a confused look then offered a shaky nod and smile to the woman. “Yes, ma’am,” he agreed, biting his lip to keep quiet until she announced that he looked fine and she’d go start his release papers while checking on his bloodwork. “What the hell?” he asked.

“What?” Dean deadpanned, sitting on the bottom of the bed, picking at the sleeve of the suit jacket like it was bothering him. “The fake Fed name? It was the only ID you had on you beside your own and one that was way too lame to be used so I used it when I decided to not let you bleed out or deal with the infection.”

“Okay, yeah, I want to know why you decided that too but I was asking about my knee. I know Cole shattered it because I felt it break.” Sam knew that he’d be waking up to feeling the bone and cartilage in his knee break and tear. “I know how bad hurt I was, Dean. Why aren’t I now or how the hell long have I been in the hospital?”

Dean snorted, still trying to keep up the uncaring façade. “You’ve been unconscious for about 14 hours. As for why you’re not in ICU like you would’ve been…I healed you enough to make it look like you’d been jumped and beat up. I didn’t feel like going into a long winded lie and they bought this one so all’s good.”

“Except for the King of Hell calling you?” Sam knew that was who was on the phone just by Dean’s lips thinning after looking at the phone. “Why not leave me to die, Dean? Or why not kill me?” he asked quietly, dropping his eyes to stare at his new cast instead of his brother. “And why stay?”

“All very good questions,” Dean told him, glaring at his phone while listening to a few of the voice messages recently left until one in particular got his attention. “Try to stay awake and maybe this will answer ‘em.” He hit the accept choice when the phone buzzed again. “What?” he growled in a tone that wasn’t even close to friendly or accepting.

“Where the bloody hell are you?” Crowley’s voice told of his displeasure with being ignored for so long. “I told you to take the night to think over my offer, not up and vanish on me! That’s not how this deal was supposed to…”

“No, but you expecting me to be your very own little lap dog or chief enforcer wasn’t part of the deal either, Crowley,” Dean cut him off, glancing up to see Sam’s eyes were still lowered and how his brother was chewing his lower lip like he did when uncertain. “Of course it also wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan that you sent your goddamn demons after Sam…more than once. Or that you taunted him on that call. You knew it would hurt him to hear you say that crap when none of it’s true, Crowley.

“We are not now nor will we ever be besties…whatever the hell that is. We are not partners in anything because if I have a partner…it’s my brother.” Dean couldn’t believe he was saying what he was. He could tell that the demon on the phone and the young man next to him also couldn’t believe he was saying it. “Yes, I was enjoying myself while you were clearly trying to see how much control you had over me during it. Well, pay attention because this is where you and I part ways on this mini vacation.”

Dean could feel the power inside him aching for release but he pushed it down while also moving away from Sam, focusing on the stuttering, enraged demon on the phone. “You wanted someone to pal around with, to howl at the moon as you said but now that you’re bored or maybe now that your pals in Hell might be thinking you’re getting too weak to rule you want to rule and you want me to help you do it cause you know the Mark and the Blade are weapons to be feared…well they are and you should fear them, Crowley. You should fear me and what you helped to make me.

“I am not a soldier of Hell. I am not a demon wearing a meatsuit. What I am is something things like you, Cain, Metatron and all the bastards before you have made me. I am what John Winchester made me but y’see that last one, that’s where you really screwed yourself over, Crowley.” Turning to see Sam’s eyes watching him, Dean took a deep breath. “This mark, this blade, maybe even 40 years in Hell helped to make me what I am right now but despite it all…despite not giving a goddamn crap about anything or anyone including myself there seems to be someone I do still care about…or enough to make sure he didn’t bleed out or die and I will use this blade on your ass if you send one more demon after Sam.

“I will topple your little kingdom if you ever say to my brother the crap you did because you were fine for the short term and maybe because I knew if you weren’t with me you might get it in that little pea brain to go after Sam yourself cause I’m sure he still plans to stick a knife in you when he can.” Dean’s lips curved in a smirk as Sam rolled his eyes in typical Sam Winchester fashion. “Oh and if you ever use that ‘I am your King’ line on me again? I’ll stick this blade so far up your ass it’ll tickle your tonsils. Stay away from me and stay away from my brother because you haven’t seen half of what I learned in Hell.”

The phone clicked off on Crowley’s enraged voice shouting but Dean merely slipped the phone back into his pocket to gaze at his brother’s shocked eyes. “Okay, so here’s how I figure this plays now that I’ve pissed off the King of Hell…I told him the truth, Sam. I don’t care about crap like I did. For me, sex, booze, good times is what I look for.”

“So…why did you track Cole? Why bring me here?” Sam asked, still shocked at what he’d just heard and still a little wary of his brother right then as he crossed the room to sit beside him. “Why stay with me?”

“Why did you get pissed off by what Crowley said?” Dean countered, nodding at the frown he got sent. “Exactly. You got mad because he called me his…which I’m not in any way. In fact I’ve got to remember to knock his little head off his shoulders since that’s too easily misdirected. I’m still my own man but…yeah, I’m also still your brother and no matter how damn hard I try, how damn hard I try to leave that side behind or wipe it clear where your concerned, I will always be your big brother.”

Sam stared at the man beside him as if trying to gauge things. “Why’d you track Cole down?” he asked, needing to know this much. “Was it because he annoyed you?”

“That and…it pissed me off that it still hurt to hear you scream,” Dean shrugged, avoiding those big eyes that were on him. “I care and I don’t care, Sam. It doesn’t make sense. I know that but…”

“Yeah, it does a little or at least I think it does,” Sam bit his lip again as he thought back to a time that he hated more than nearly any other time but one. “When I was soulless…I told you that I didn’t care about anything, not even you…remember?”

Dean nodded tightly. He recalled that conversation at a picnic table well enough because it had hurt him for a long time. It had been that admission that had also made him determined to get his brother’s soul back. “Yeah, I remember.”

“I…lied a little.” Sam tried to sit up but only sighed when he was once again pushed back. “When Samuel captured us? When he separated us in those cells? When those ghouls had you? I cared, Dean. I cared enough to fight to get myself free to get to you. I also cared when I came to you the day those Djinn nailed you. I think there’s just something that makes it hard for us to not care about each other…chick flick moments aside.”

“Maybe,” Dean admitted grudgingly. “I still don’t know if I want to be fixed,” he warned.

“I didn’t want fixed either but you didn’t exactly take that for an answer,” Sam reminded him with a raised brow. “What makes you think I’ll stop trying to fix you just because you say to?”

“Touche, little brother.” Dean had to admit he walked into that one. “So how about a middle ground type of thing? I won’t stop you from trying to cure me or whatever you want to call it if you understand that I am not the man I was, the brother you want me to be right now. I will not turn on you but if I tell you to back off until I get the mark under control, you back off. Agreed?” He held out a hand and then waited.

Sam stared at the hand before taking it awkwardly with his left one. “Agreed,” he nodded, taking what he could get for the moment. He started to pull his hand back only to jerk his eyes up when Dean’s grip tightened and a flash of his brother shaking Gadreel’s hand before pulling the blade came to mind. “Dean?”

“Did you think I killed Cole’s Dad, Sam?” Dean asked curiously, not sure why that mattered to him but it did.

“No. I knew if anything had happened it had to have been an accident or there was something he didn’t know or understand. I knew you wouldn’t have killed a guy without a reason.” Sam wouldn’t say that Dean wouldn’t kill something non-supernatural because he knew his brother had killed but always with a good reason or if forced to protect himself or Sam. “Cole’s not the type to let this go, Dean. He’ll keep coming but I think he’s basically like you or I would be if we didn’t know what we do.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Dean did let go of Sam’s hand but didn’t move from the side of the bed. “I won’t say I won’t kill him if he comes after me or you again, especially right now.”

“I know.” Sam was tired but hated to close his eyes. “So…will you be here when I wake up again?”

Dean moved a hand over Sam’s broken wrist to feel bones slowly knitting back together. “Yeah, Sammy, I’ll be here. Close your eyes and sleep…you look like hell…bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam mumbled as the pain meds and too much stress of the recent months finally made him crash without realizing what he’d replied to since it was still a basic reaction.

Dean smirked and realized it felt right to say that insult with Sam where it hadn’t when he tried it with Crowley as a test. He waited to be sure Sam was sleeping before he moved to a chair but kept his eyes on his brother as well as a hand.

The former hunter wasn’t sure how this would play out. He knew Crowley would be pissed and would try some manipulative stunt but Dean would be ready for that. He also would have to keep an eye on what Sam did in his attempts to ‘fix’ this.

Sharp eyes shot up as the door opened to let a young fresh faced nurse in and while one side of him was looking at her body the other piece of Dean was looking and seeing something much different. “Huh,” he grunted, pushing to his feet to move between the started nurse and the bed. “Well I’ll be damned. It’s not only demons who look different inside their meatsuits. You guys look a lot different too. So…both sides still think Sammy’s an issue or is there a reason an Angel is in my brother’s room?”

The young nurse at first tried to stumble out an explanation before Dean pulled the First Blade out and suddenly all signs of fresh faced fear went away, replaced by an icy coolness that the older Winchester noticed a lot of hardcore angels had.

“We were told you were either dead or possessed,” she eyes the man in front of her before the first sign of knowledge was reflected. “You’re not possessed,” she stared at the blade before rethinking her motives. “Certain elements in Heaven wanted to see what Sam Winchester might know about…”

“No, you weren’t here because you wanted to ask Sam anything,” Dean noticed Sam tensing in his sleep. “Heaven still holds stuff against Sam. It still thinks he’s evil incarnate. Well, take this piece of news back home, sweetheart,” he let his eyes flash black and loved the look of shocked fear on the angel’s face. “Little brother isn’t the evil one you feather heads should’ve been watching out for it seems.”

As the angel fled the room, Dean snorted in disgust and put the blade away while reaching for his phone again to dial a number as he sat on the edge of Sam’s bed without thinking of how normal it was for him to do this. “Hey, before you hang up, lecture me, or cough up a lung, you better tell your buddies upstairs that if they send another angel after or near Sam that doesn’t have a reason to be near him it won’t just be hell that I’ll rip to shreds with this blade. Sam’s off limits to both sides, Castiel. Tell them that.”

Dean dropped the phone to feel the mark heat up but shook it off. He enjoyed the freedom he’d had but there’d been something missing, something off and he hadn’t been able to place it until now as he sat and watched Sam sleep.

Going to bars, playing pool or darts or anything else just didn’t have the same feel if he did it without Sam. He knew this would be hard, he knew finding a middle ground would be difficult but he also didn’t plan to have his brother used as a pawn by anyone either so he’d humor Sam’s attempts to cure him, feed the mark when he could and keep his eyes peeled for a vengeful young man who didn’t know when to leave well enough alone.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know. It didn't end as dark as some might have expected but the muse is an eternal optimist and also needs that happy/semi-happy ending. :)


End file.
